Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!

[jamonwindeyer]

I have really neglected creative writing this year. What's the typical game plan heading into exams? Know (basically memorise) one really well and then mould it to the stimulus or know two or three and kind of vaguely recite them?

Hey! Sorry it has taken so long to get you feedback on this - Big backlog after the lectures. I personally had a character I always wrote "about" or from the perspective of, and had a few situations/issues I would raise with that character to cover different elements of the rubric. I came to know the character well enough to be able to make a natural story out of pretty much anything. Kind of like method acting, but method writing so I suppose I did something similar to the former! Everyone is different though!

Your creative is attached with comments in bold:

Spoiler

“To perceive is to suffer.”
― Aristotle Interesting choice to open with the quote - I find this works best when it ties into the story, say, if your character studies Greek philosophy or something. Writing the quote out of nowhere sometimes seems a little cliche in terms of a way to start.

You wouldn’t have been able to tell Sydney was on the cusp of winter. A light breeze ruffled evergreen leaves, adding little chill to tepid air. The afternoon sun was smiling down, with little care for the fact that it was working unpaid overtime. Its breezy attitude was fabulous for the precise rows of flowerbeds, their occupants drunkenly swimming in the fuel of photosynthesis. The scientific jargon here feels a tad out of place, but I like the mood you are creating otherwise! The personification of natural elements is working well to set the tone. On the roads sat the houses, waiting patiently for their owners to return for Christmas.

Xavier paced along slowly, taking in his green and blue abode. He had lived in these parts for a year or so now, time that felt as if it were slipping through his fingers… Ever so slightly cliche, not the phrasing but in terms of foreshadowing "lost time," - Just doesn't quite sit right to me.

He didn’t understand why but the world felt heavier when he walked, especially when the streets were barren. With just the perfect azure sky and the shells of houses – not homes, it was hard not to ponder questions pertaining to some greater meaning about the world. Will there still be people on our little marble in five hundred years? What about a thousand? I think these questions are innocent enough, don't come across as out of place. I'd like for you to do a little more to characterise Xavier before the questions though, just to make them seem even more natural. Do something to establish his curiosity!

While Xavier’s cogs whirred Stan trudged behind him. Like a prisoner’s ball-on-a-chain, he was the reason their journey was proceeding at a snail’s pace. Simile seems a tad forced? Despite having walked this pavement for as long as his friend, Stan found it eternally compelling. With the knowledge that he had all the time in the world to savour the fragrances, Stan trailed his snout through a sun-soaked patch of grass that climbed up to tickle his furry underbelly. Sniff-sniff-sniff-sniff-sniff… This last line seems a little awkwardly placed, but I LOVE the way you bring in Stan, set up his character, without ever directly telling us anything. Very natural, good work.

Xavier breathed out slowly, furrowing his brow. The hound was inhaling gleefully, and his owner swore he could see his dog grinning like he was eating a humungous bone, not smelling the same blade of grass he’s smelled a thousand times before.

Suddenly, Xavier put the grip end of the lead in his mouth. The fake leather smelled like ancient socks and the dog’s fur, so his teeth gripped it firmly, separating it from his tongue. Shielding his eyes with both hands, he turned in a slow circle looking up, scanning the sky blue dome. Today was one of those lucky days where one could see the shadow of the moon hanging out like the shy friend at a party, dwarfed by the exuberance of the sun. Again, simile seems a little forced. I think perhaps you are trying a little too hard to get techniques into your response? Use them when it feels right, too many takes away their power! Just in front of it stood the wispy moustache of a cloud, a sole survivor of the summery weather. Drifting steadily past the pair was a bird devoid of grace, a jumble of mass that really didn’t belong up there, stubbornly refusing to fall. Behind it puffed an artificial cloud, the plane’s trail dissipating steadily like a retreating wave. Xavier could just about hear the aircraft’s low hum in the cyan infinity behind it, struggling to keep up with its master much like Stan was with Xavier. Not quite sure about this last sentence, what is the aircraft trying to keep up with? Be careful, being overly elaborate can confuse the reader.

Xavier watched the plane cross the Tasman. By now the smell of the lead, corrupted by years of storage in a damp cupboard, was invading his nostrils like a hoard of bees. He spat it out with distain, looking down upon it in the soft pillow of his pale palm. Why did he put it in his mouth in the first place? Sorry, I might have missed what necessitated this.

Xavier turned around and saw the stub of a discarded lamb cutlet poking out of the dog’s mouth a millisecond before it was hastily gobbled up. Ashamedly, the brown marbles looked up at him:

“I’m so sorry human please don’t be angry I’ve only been fed once today and I’m ever so hungry please please please forgive me…” I feel the dialogue reads a little 'off', although it is meant to be silly and that's the character, I'm not sure it works.

Xavier sighed for the umpteenth time that day. He was beyond caring about Stan’s behaviour at this point. Thoughts bounced around his head like a super ball, many of them hard to quantify in words or even begin to answer. Why don’t we fear being flung thirty thousand feet into the air in a thin metal tube? How did we make it onto the moon only half a century after inventing the aeroplane? What am I going to do with the rest of my life? Are the hermit crabs of these houses enjoying their frantic lives? The rapid barrage of questions is much more forced this time - It comes across as frantic. Like, before, the questions were curious but they seemed like a natural thing. Who hasn't thought something like that at some stage? These questions though, more varied and more rapid, it sets a tone of panic. Not sure if this is intended?

This continued for a while longer. Stan kept sniffing, Xavier kept contemplating. Rays of sunlight rained down as the afternoon wore on. Lorikeets laughed and chased each other playfully through the imported palm trees and the terraces littered with leaves.

Xavier gazed down at Stan, trying to swim in a thick soup of thoughts. What does the dog think of his world? Does he long for freedom from the leash? Much more natural again - I think perhaps it is because the question came from something tangible in front of him that Xavier would definitely notice and consider, not non-consequential things and tiny minute details?

Suddenly, Stan halted the procession of narrow legs and looked up the ridge of his snout into his owner’s eyes. The dog’s tongue continued to hang lazily out the side of black jowls, the sun beating down on the pink, leathery muscle. Whatever he feels, thought Xavier, it’s not discontent. The world is his oyster.

Unusually, Stan seemed uninterested in sniffing. He continued to angle his nose up right at his owner, revealing rows of ivory pegs.

Maybe… maybe ignorance is bliss? The dog doesn’t know, and he doesn’t give a damn. In fact, no one can really answer any of these questions. Understanding is just perception. Everything is speculation on this mortal coil…

Xavier looked up and recognised the friendly oak of his faded-cream front door.

Comments:
- I love the IDEA of this story. Like, it is brilliant. Walk down the street, compare and contrast the perspectives of the two characters. Deceptively simple, brilliantly complex. I think this could be a killer creative. Right now, the execution is a bit off. Some of the questions presented are too forced, some of the techniques seem unnatural. I think you've got a beautiful piece of art hidden behind a few stray paint strokes right now
- I agree the ending is too quick - The discovery needs to be threaded through in a more meaningful way. Perhaps have Xavier interact with the world more meaningfully, and compare it with Stan's view? For example, pulling this from nowhere, Xavier sees a homeless person and this leads him to consider all the people who can't put a roof over their heads. While Xavier worries about this, Stan just sees another person to get affection from. Or something. Like, actively draw out the differences between the two and have Xavier start to clue in to the benefits of ignorance, build the Discovery gradually.
- Characterisation definitely an issue - I think the tone of your story would suit a bit of an intro at the start, just to setup his questioning nature. It might make the questions more believable.

I hope this helps! As I said, fantastic idea - Some parts just seem a little unnatural right now

[jamonwindeyer]

Just a heads up that the following people have Creatives that are on our list:

- beau77bro
- shamus.clarke
- dancing phalanges

Anyone else who has posted has not yet met post count requirements - Let me know if you need to know how many posts you need. Otherwise, we'll get feedback for ^ you three asap

[Crabstickz]

Hi, sorry if this isnt the right place to post this but are we allowed to use this forum to ask about our creative ideas rather than actually getting something marked (like if i have a synopsis but I'm not sure how to make discovery prominent or idk how to use flashbacks effectively, etc) Or should i not be doing that/doing that somewhere else?

[jamonwindeyer]

Hi, sorry if this isnt the right place to post this but are we allowed to use this forum to ask about our creative ideas rather than actually getting something marked (like if i have a synopsis but I'm not sure how to make discovery prominent or idk how to use flashbacks effectively, etc) Or should i not be doing that/doing that somewhere else?

I'd probably do that in either the Standard or Advanced thread, keep this place for marking! Or you could shoot the question here actually!

[elysepopplewell]

Hey so I've taken some advice from the atarnotes and i've tried to make this creative more abstract and a bit more intense. I feel like I've included a lot of points i could expand upon and include different motifs for different stimuli. I'm about to go through it with my teacher sister, so if you don't get to it soon that's ok i will post an improve (grammatically and making sense wise) version in a day or so.

Thank you - ps. mostly a dramatised non-fiction. but I'm super open to changing any part of it.

IM ADDING A REVISED VERSION - I'VE ADDED A DECENT BIT, BUT I HAVENT GOTTEN THE CHANCE TO EDIT IT PROPERLY. IF YOU HAVE ALREADY MARKED IT THAT'S FINE, MOST OF THE ADVICE WILL STILL APPLY. I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE A SKIM OF THIS AND SOME BASIC FEEDBACK - my teacher said to start it in action, i didnt really know how to do that. i hope this is alright. if you havent marked it yet then yay. (sorry for caps i just wanted to make sure you guys saw this)

so yea - does it have okay discovery concepts? is it entertaining/interesting? how should i start it better, or is that fine? ANY FEEDBACK APPRECIATED

so yea you guys have already seen it and started (downloaded 6 times). but the revised version is very similar. i know you guys are smashed because trials are coming up. but maybe if its no hassle you could give some feedback on the beginning/first para?

HEY! I've got the second draft here below

Spoiler

As I sit in the corporate Box with my wife lying on my chest and my dad beside me cheering, I thought. I thought about how we measure success, how we define living. why we quantify the most abstract of things into something so transparent, so future orientated. I am what I am because of what’s happened to me and all the little moments that make up Right Now… Life isn’t easy or simple. I’m happy to say I’ve suffered a lot. Happiness is only relative to sadness and truly living is only ever preceded by hardship. You have to learn to live… many don’t, I learnt to on a cold hard floor with death in the air. Love the ending to this - it's so cold and makes me want to know more.

…

I do not remember much of the time I spent in hospital. A lot of it was an abject blur. I don’t remember all the surgeries (thank god). I don’t remember the nurses, the paper cards from friends and relatives, the absence of my brother, and the long nights my mother spent next to me. I don’t remember the sickly faces that evaporated from the beds around me, but I know that they are no longer with us. I know the feeling of rage and bewilderment that plagued me. WHY? What was the reason for any of this suffering? In that 2 years, I had lay in that bed and I couldn’t work it out. But in one night that hard, cold floor, which almost tore the flesh from my chest had knocked the answer within my sight… I just needed to reach it.
My endless tossing and turning had strangled me in my sheets, and my arm in the cords that maintained (sustained) my existence. It’s strange that there weren’t bed rails… or maybe I had knocked them loose… just another question…
Any dream or measure of sleep was broken by that barrelling feeling of falling. That feeling of inertia as your organs resist the motion of falling as the rest of your body barrels through the air. But I knew they were on the hard floor with me, the needles and tubes from my chest made it (the state of my insides) Not sure about these brackets?excruciatingly obvious. Many of the chords had become entangled, with the sheet or with one another, but the needle in my arm and the thumb clamp had disconnected. Blood streamed down my arm and the blips of light stopped, but the screen still glowed. My back ached, my arm stung and my chest throbbed and pulled… it felt like my flesh was being torn out… and my insides… something ached in my stomach…
I cried. Not for the pain, I had no more tears left for pain. I cried for fear and anger, I had used no tears for them, nor sadness.
My dad always says I never complained.
I cried… out of searching… out of uncertainty.
The screen on the heart monitor had gone dark. Being only six years old I didn’t know that it had simply disconnected... and that’s where the overwhelming theme of my sickness stuck, I didn’t know, I couldn’t understand anything that happened to me… or why it happened to me.  I think by this stage the ellipsis breaks are too much. The plot is devastating and therefore moving me forward, pushing me through, but the ellipsis are slowly me down and I think it's creating an awkward flow for me to follow.
There was almost nothing in my life I had control of or really knew anymore. I had fallen out of my home and my world into a dark and cold bed, and I was no more - eaten up by anger and confusion. But really, I was scared. Being awake was agony right now, it had been for months now. So, I lay there and pondered the swarm of questions, and did not struggle when darkness seeped across my view.
…
Why? Why me… what had I done to deserve this… what was wrong with me… why couldn’t I see my family… why had I been so different… why was I so different now… why was every moment hard, talking to mum and my siblings, breathing, walking… all the operations… WHY? Would I d… would I… what would happen after tonight? What could my life have been without this? Would it end here…
When my eyes opened, I met the agony again. It was all through me. It was like my bones and blood burnt. I winced at every movement, every breath. I wanted the darkness again, any reprieve from this existence… I hated anyone who didn’t have to live like this, through this. It still stung at me, why me? I would not sleep, but as the world knocked me and the world shook around me, the energy sapped from my eyes… I couldn’t fight as the ceiling turned to blackness. As it receded I knew. I knew I didn’t have control over what happened. Things just happened.
I was free. The questions that pulled me towards the darkness inside me were gone… they did not need answers, I had done nothing wrong. Now I faced the darkness outside of me, and I embraced it.
“I can control myself. I can choose how I want to deal with what life throws at me…. that’s enough, maybe just enough to change what’s around me. But I can’t change this, so I’m not going to fight it.”
...
My eyelids were red, and I opened them to a blinding light. I closed them quickly again and heard the shuffling of chairs and a light pitter patter. When I opened, them squinting, I saw a wall of standing faces. I looked around there was dad, Gen, mum with Charlie in her arms, Alex, James and Jacq. I looked intently at Jacq, my doting sister who showed me nothing but love. Yet all I ever returned was hate. I looked at her, and I knew she was not to blame. I knew I had a life to live, not question.
‘Are you ok?’
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Do you want me to get you a drink?’ said the nurse.
A barrage of questions I could answer. I sat for a second and thought of how I got here. i went to answer all questions. But that was not enough to express what i meant. I chose instead to say, ‘I love you guys.’

I haven't commented much throughout because there aren't many specifics incidences that I want to work on, but I just want to suggest some overall tweaks. Firstly, there are so many ellipsis breaks. There is a time when these can be used to create a pensive tone, but in this instance I think it's used as an easy way of creating pauses instead of getting creative with other punctuation or grammar techniques. There are times where it's just not necessary, and question marks would suffice, like where the protagonist is asking consecutive questions.

As for the way I feel about the character: I'm annoyed at the character! All they do is whinge the entire time and 'woe is me" and I really didn't see this coming from the person who opened the story at the beginning - it's like even with the ending, I can't make a connection between the opening character, the whiner throughout, and then the person saying they love their family. An extra personality trait might help - like blunt sarcasm, humour, an unwavering religious adherence, something unique and relatable so that we can connect with the character on a way that isn't them complaining. For the most part of the story there, we are revealed tiny little plot points but it's masked by "why me?" and "what is the meaning of life?" and "I don't deserve this" the entire way, which can retract from us being able to engage with the protagonist, and then feel a sense of connection, empathy, and appreciation for the ending.

Perhaps to enhance the ending, you could discuss the way the family hadn't believed the protagonist's symptoms at first, or the way they thought it was the boy who cried wolf, or so on. And so the protagonist sits festering in the bed wondering why the family couldn't take it all seriously, and now it's escalated to this level - and the protagonist wants to place blame. But then when the protagonist sees the family, it is discovered that none of it matters, the protagonist was sick whether people believed it or not. And then that could enhance the discovery.

I'm sorry to give you feedback that requires actually re-arranging significant things instead of just being able to point out different aspects of wording to adjust, but I think it's necessary you get my full thoughts and hopefully you can take it on board

[beau77bro]

As for the way I feel about the character: I'm annoyed at the character! All they do is whinge the entire time and 'woe is me" and I really didn't see this coming from the person who opened the story at the beginning - it's like even with the ending, I can't make a connection between the opening character, the whiner throughout, and then the person saying they love their family. An extra personality trait might help - like blunt sarcasm, humour, an unwavering religious adherence, something unique and relatable so that we can connect with the character on a way that isn't them complaining. For the most part of the story there, we are revealed tiny little plot points but it's masked by "why me?" and "what is the meaning of life?" and "I don't deserve this" the entire way, which can retract from us being able to engage with the protagonist, and then feel a sense of connection, empathy, and appreciation for the ending.

Perhaps to enhance the ending, you could discuss the way the family hadn't believed the protagonist's symptoms at first, or the way they thought it was the boy who cried wolf, or so on. And so the protagonist sits festering in the bed wondering why the family couldn't take it all seriously, and now it's escalated to this level - and the protagonist wants to place blame. But then when the protagonist sees the family, it is discovered that none of it matters, the protagonist was sick whether people believed it or not. And then that could enhance the discovery.

Ummm I do agree there is a significant amount of whinging. But it is actually about a 6 year old kid with leukemia (me - i tried to take something from my own experience-should i change it? i really feel i have a lot to say and expand upon though) would it be sufficient enough to expand upon (i actually forgot to even say that hahah) that as a cause for anguish? I do think less questions - and definitely less ellipses. My teacher really agreed there. And in terms of the family would it be more explanatory to explore how the character was angry and confused and took it out on the people around him? or would this be a better ending (from another draft):

Dad grabbed me, and that familiar feeling of a sudden jerk woke me once again. I opened my eyes to seeing my dad balling, then squeezing me, which was honestly agony with all the tubes. Then I giggled because I was alive, with an added bonus of scaring the crap out of my dad and finally answering the question of what dad looked like crying. The fact being he has to be one of the ugliest criers in the world. And with that final question answered I decided to take as much from life while I could.


I realise the brackets are terribly annoying in this post. i really appreciate the advice -  i need to make the character more relatable. i did a more specific creative before that had more reference to the situation and the background, i tried to make it more abstract to allow for more variation but i think if i added some of that detail back it would substantiate the story better? would that be enough or how should i go ahead with changing it?

[elysepopplewell]

Ummm I do agree there is a significant amount of whinging. But it is actually about a 6 year old kid with leukemia (me - i tried to take something from my own experience-should i change it? i really feel i have a lot to say and expand upon though) would it be sufficient enough to expand upon (i actually forgot to even say that hahah) that as a cause for anguish? I do think less questions - and definitely less ellipses. My teacher really agreed there. And in terms of the family would it be more explanatory to explore how the character was angry and confused and took it out on the people around him? or would this be a better ending (from another draft):

Dad grabbed me, and that familiar feeling of a sudden jerk woke me once again. I opened my eyes to seeing my dad balling, then squeezing me, which was honestly agony with all the tubes. Then I giggled because I was alive, with an added bonus of scaring the crap out of my dad and finally answering the question of what dad looked like crying. The fact being he has to be one of the ugliest criers in the world. And with that final question answered I decided to take as much from life while I could.


I realise the brackets are terribly annoying in this post. i really appreciate the advice -  i need to make the character more relatable. i did a more specific creative before that had more reference to the situation and the background, i tried to make it more abstract to allow for more variation but i think if i added some of that detail back it would substantiate the story better? would that be enough or how should i go ahead with changing it?

Hey! To be fair, I actually completely overlooked the part about this being a six year old, so things make more sense now. I've gone back and I can clearly see where you've identified the age, I think I overlooked it because I was committed to commenting on the ellipsis at the same time. This makes more sense in bridging the big personality difference between the first opening narration and the middle - so immediately this clears up that bit of criticism! It also contextualises the whinging a whole lot more - because I was reading this as an adult, I was thinking, "why are you being so self-pitying?" in the assumption that there was a wife there that was mentioned in the beginning, so it definitely all makes more sense now, I apologise for not soaking up that sentence, what a difference it makes.

As for the bit you've added: I love this. I love the "which was honestly agony with all the tubes" because that's the exact kind of relatable and almost funny experience that readers connect to. And then the, 'the question of what dad looked like crying" is also funny, I smiled when I read it. This is the exact kind of human quality that I'd love to see weaved throughout the middle part, especially because it's coming from the voice of a small child.

So in terms of my original feedback - obviously I overlooked the age thing because I commented on the ellipsis at the same time and therefore you'll need to disregard my feedback about not connecting the different voices, but the whinging becomes a whole lot more valid - it's a child's anguish! But this paragraph that you've just modelled above is the exact kind of accessibility a cancer story can benefit from! You're in the right direction.

I'm also really impressed you're writing from experience about what would have been an incredibly difficult time. I'm sorry you ever went through what you did, but being a dedicated student like you are on the forums gives me the impression that you're a real star

[beau77bro]

As for the bit you've added: I love this. I love the "which was honestly agony with all the tubes" because that's the exact kind of relatable and almost funny experience that readers connect to. And then the, 'the question of what dad looked like crying" is also funny, I smiled when I read it. This is the exact kind of human quality that I'd love to see weaved throughout the middle part, especially because it's coming from the voice of a small child.

So in terms of my original feedback - obviously I overlooked the age thing because I commented on the ellipsis at the same time and therefore you'll need to disregard my feedback about not connecting the different voices, but the whinging becomes a whole lot more valid - it's a child's anguish! But this paragraph that you've just modelled above is the exact kind of accessibility a cancer story can benefit from! You're in the right direction.

I'm also really impressed you're writing from experience about what would have been an incredibly difficult time. I'm sorry you ever went through what you did, but being a dedicated student like you are on the forums gives me the impression that you're a real star

I will try and weave in a bit of sass. and make the questions abit less repetitive (as well as contextualise it a tinsy bit more).

I honestly only chose this story because it scared the crap out of my dad at the time, and it's some of the only things I remember. but yea - I will be back with a refined creative. possibly applied to a stimulus. Thanks Elyse.

[elysepopplewell]

I will try and weave in a bit of sass. and make the questions abit less repetitive (as well as contextualise it a tinsy bit more).

I honestly only chose this story because it scared the crap out of my dad at the time, and it's some of the only things I remember. but yea - I will be back with a refined creative. possibly applied to a stimulus. Thanks Elyse.

Good luck Beau, thanks for sharing

[_____]

Hey! Sorry it has taken so long to get you feedback on this - Big backlog after the lectures. I personally had a character I always wrote "about" or from the perspective of, and had a few situations/issues I would raise with that character to cover different elements of the rubric. I came to know the character well enough to be able to make a natural story out of pretty much anything. Kind of like method acting, but method writing so I suppose I did something similar to the former! Everyone is different though!

Your creative is attached with comments in bold:

Spoiler

“To perceive is to suffer.”
― Aristotle Interesting choice to open with the quote - I find this works best when it ties into the story, say, if your character studies Greek philosophy or something. Writing the quote out of nowhere sometimes seems a little cliche in terms of a way to start.

You wouldn’t have been able to tell Sydney was on the cusp of winter. A light breeze ruffled evergreen leaves, adding little chill to tepid air. The afternoon sun was smiling down, with little care for the fact that it was working unpaid overtime. Its breezy attitude was fabulous for the precise rows of flowerbeds, their occupants drunkenly swimming in the fuel of photosynthesis. The scientific jargon here feels a tad out of place, but I like the mood you are creating otherwise! The personification of natural elements is working well to set the tone. On the roads sat the houses, waiting patiently for their owners to return for Christmas.

Xavier paced along slowly, taking in his green and blue abode. He had lived in these parts for a year or so now, time that felt as if it were slipping through his fingers… Ever so slightly cliche, not the phrasing but in terms of foreshadowing "lost time," - Just doesn't quite sit right to me.

He didn’t understand why but the world felt heavier when he walked, especially when the streets were barren. With just the perfect azure sky and the shells of houses – not homes, it was hard not to ponder questions pertaining to some greater meaning about the world. Will there still be people on our little marble in five hundred years? What about a thousand? I think these questions are innocent enough, don't come across as out of place. I'd like for you to do a little more to characterise Xavier before the questions though, just to make them seem even more natural. Do something to establish his curiosity!

While Xavier’s cogs whirred Stan trudged behind him. Like a prisoner’s ball-on-a-chain, he was the reason their journey was proceeding at a snail’s pace. Simile seems a tad forced? Despite having walked this pavement for as long as his friend, Stan found it eternally compelling. With the knowledge that he had all the time in the world to savour the fragrances, Stan trailed his snout through a sun-soaked patch of grass that climbed up to tickle his furry underbelly. Sniff-sniff-sniff-sniff-sniff… This last line seems a little awkwardly placed, but I LOVE the way you bring in Stan, set up his character, without ever directly telling us anything. Very natural, good work.

Xavier breathed out slowly, furrowing his brow. The hound was inhaling gleefully, and his owner swore he could see his dog grinning like he was eating a humungous bone, not smelling the same blade of grass he’s smelled a thousand times before.

Suddenly, Xavier put the grip end of the lead in his mouth. The fake leather smelled like ancient socks and the dog’s fur, so his teeth gripped it firmly, separating it from his tongue. Shielding his eyes with both hands, he turned in a slow circle looking up, scanning the sky blue dome. Today was one of those lucky days where one could see the shadow of the moon hanging out like the shy friend at a party, dwarfed by the exuberance of the sun. Again, simile seems a little forced. I think perhaps you are trying a little too hard to get techniques into your response? Use them when it feels right, too many takes away their power! Just in front of it stood the wispy moustache of a cloud, a sole survivor of the summery weather. Drifting steadily past the pair was a bird devoid of grace, a jumble of mass that really didn’t belong up there, stubbornly refusing to fall. Behind it puffed an artificial cloud, the plane’s trail dissipating steadily like a retreating wave. Xavier could just about hear the aircraft’s low hum in the cyan infinity behind it, struggling to keep up with its master much like Stan was with Xavier. Not quite sure about this last sentence, what is the aircraft trying to keep up with? Be careful, being overly elaborate can confuse the reader.

Xavier watched the plane cross the Tasman. By now the smell of the lead, corrupted by years of storage in a damp cupboard, was invading his nostrils like a hoard of bees. He spat it out with distain, looking down upon it in the soft pillow of his pale palm. Why did he put it in his mouth in the first place? Sorry, I might have missed what necessitated this.

Xavier turned around and saw the stub of a discarded lamb cutlet poking out of the dog’s mouth a millisecond before it was hastily gobbled up. Ashamedly, the brown marbles looked up at him:

“I’m so sorry human please don’t be angry I’ve only been fed once today and I’m ever so hungry please please please forgive me…” I feel the dialogue reads a little 'off', although it is meant to be silly and that's the character, I'm not sure it works.

Xavier sighed for the umpteenth time that day. He was beyond caring about Stan’s behaviour at this point. Thoughts bounced around his head like a super ball, many of them hard to quantify in words or even begin to answer. Why don’t we fear being flung thirty thousand feet into the air in a thin metal tube? How did we make it onto the moon only half a century after inventing the aeroplane? What am I going to do with the rest of my life? Are the hermit crabs of these houses enjoying their frantic lives? The rapid barrage of questions is much more forced this time - It comes across as frantic. Like, before, the questions were curious but they seemed like a natural thing. Who hasn't thought something like that at some stage? These questions though, more varied and more rapid, it sets a tone of panic. Not sure if this is intended?

This continued for a while longer. Stan kept sniffing, Xavier kept contemplating. Rays of sunlight rained down as the afternoon wore on. Lorikeets laughed and chased each other playfully through the imported palm trees and the terraces littered with leaves.

Xavier gazed down at Stan, trying to swim in a thick soup of thoughts. What does the dog think of his world? Does he long for freedom from the leash? Much more natural again - I think perhaps it is because the question came from something tangible in front of him that Xavier would definitely notice and consider, not non-consequential things and tiny minute details?

Suddenly, Stan halted the procession of narrow legs and looked up the ridge of his snout into his owner’s eyes. The dog’s tongue continued to hang lazily out the side of black jowls, the sun beating down on the pink, leathery muscle. Whatever he feels, thought Xavier, it’s not discontent. The world is his oyster.

Unusually, Stan seemed uninterested in sniffing. He continued to angle his nose up right at his owner, revealing rows of ivory pegs.

Maybe… maybe ignorance is bliss? The dog doesn’t know, and he doesn’t give a damn. In fact, no one can really answer any of these questions. Understanding is just perception. Everything is speculation on this mortal coil…

Xavier looked up and recognised the friendly oak of his faded-cream front door.

Comments:
- I love the IDEA of this story. Like, it is brilliant. Walk down the street, compare and contrast the perspectives of the two characters. Deceptively simple, brilliantly complex. I think this could be a killer creative. Right now, the execution is a bit off. Some of the questions presented are too forced, some of the techniques seem unnatural. I think you've got a beautiful piece of art hidden behind a few stray paint strokes right now
- I agree the ending is too quick - The discovery needs to be threaded through in a more meaningful way. Perhaps have Xavier interact with the world more meaningfully, and compare it with Stan's view? For example, pulling this from nowhere, Xavier sees a homeless person and this leads him to consider all the people who can't put a roof over their heads. While Xavier worries about this, Stan just sees another person to get affection from. Or something. Like, actively draw out the differences between the two and have Xavier start to clue in to the benefits of ignorance, build the Discovery gradually.
- Characterisation definitely an issue - I think the tone of your story would suit a bit of an intro at the start, just to setup his questioning nature. It might make the questions more believable.

I hope this helps! As I said, fantastic idea - Some parts just seem a little unnatural right now

Thanks for that.

I just want to make sure that the story isn't confusing for readers other than myself if I may. The hum of the aircraft is trying to keep up with the plane rather than the plane trying to keep up with anything - I think I've experienced this before when they're quite far from the ground. Also, when he puts the lead in his mouth this is to ensure Stan doesn't run off. He's using his hands to block the sun so he can't keep hold of the lead. Do I need to change these to make them clearer? I was trying to "show, not tell" so there's not a whole lot of explanation from the narrator.

With your advice I added a paragraph kind of explaining Xavier's context and added a new discovery to make the final realisation more meaningful. They've really helped to make the story flow better I think. But despite trimming some stuff I'm at 1000 words now and there's no way I'm going to be able to write that in forty minutes. Do you have any recommendations for things to cut? I was thinking of the plane bit but it feels wrong to remove that. Editing is hard 

[jamonwindeyer]

Thanks for that.

I just want to make sure that the story isn't confusing for readers other than myself if I may. The hum of the aircraft is trying to keep up with the plane rather than the plane trying to keep up with anything - I think I've experienced this before when they're quite far from the ground. Also, when he puts the lead in his mouth this is to ensure Stan doesn't run off. He's using his hands to block the sun so he can't keep hold of the lead. Do I need to change these to make them clearer? I was trying to "show, not tell" so there's not a whole lot of explanation from the narrator.

Cool cool! So they didn't immediately click to me, that doesn't mean it won't click for everyone. And they are minor story details that aren't super important. Maybe run the paragraph past a friend or two and see what they think?

With your advice I added a paragraph kind of explaining Xavier's context and added a new discovery to make the final realisation more meaningful. They've really helped to make the story flow better I think. But despite trimming some stuff I'm at 1000 words now and there's no way I'm going to be able to write that in forty minutes. Do you have any recommendations for things to cut? I was thinking of the plane bit but it feels wrong to remove that. Editing is hard 

Great to hear!! hmm, perhaps it isn't a "cut a section" thing, but rather trim a sentence here or there. There are definitely sentences in the middle with the plane you could trim. Maybe cut back a bit in the opening paragraphs, you don't need a HEAP on establishing the setting, for example. Just crack and chip away at it, always thinking, "Why is this sentence here?" If you don't have an answer, it might be worth trimming

[elysepopplewell]

Hi ATAR Notes,

I've been preparing for trials lately, but I'm feeling dubious about the quality of my writing piece. Would it be possible if you could take a look, please? I'm trying to get the highest mark I can, so any advice or constructive criticism at all would be really helpful. Thank you!

Hey Shamus Thanks for being around! I've put some feedback in the spoiler in bold font but you'll find the majority of my comments at the end

Spoiler

Awakenings


Dawn stealthily approached. It was one of those days where the misty clouds hang oppressively low, shrouding the obscure sanctuary from sight.
David trudged solemnly along the narrow path. The monotony of the autumn leaves piled on top of each other caused his shoulders to droop.
The dreariness of routine overwhelmed his stream of consciousness as he neared towards the familiar cage. Hues of red and green, blue and white protruded through the narrow vista between the bars, an invitation to come inside and look.
David took a few quick breaths. His head was throbbing with pain. With his eyes forced open and his forehead etched with wrinkles from years of the same worries and frustrations, he tried to work through the pain as he always did. Pausing for a second, he reluctantly transfixed his focus on the task at hand.
Digging furiously into the bag of feed, the familiar feel of grains rubbed against his hand and seeped through his fingers. Every attempt seemed futile, the longer he reached inside, the less he could draw out and the searing of red-hot lava rising in his chest became more and more pronounced. 
The incessant chirps became no more as he managed to grasp the last handful from bag. An array of chains sealed the cage from the external world and the silence of the sanctuary was perturbed by the horrendous rattle of David’s keys, each rattle adding fury and tension.
Extending his hand outwards was a menial task. However, today, this daily offering seemed peculiar to the residents of the cage. It was like a familiar intruder had broken into their world. Lapsing back and forth, moving his hand in and out did nothing to stop them from aggregating in a remote corner, fluttering their spectacular wings with alarm. Their eyes became ripe with fear, their dusty plumage giving off the sensation of loss and confusion.
“Did I do something wrong?” he thought.
Walking further in, stepping amongst the cocktail of dirt and droppings, he surrendered himself to the bars. Blades of light penetrated the abyss while he tilted his head and fixated his fervent gaze towards the distance.  Such daily toil had forged within him an elastic perception of time with the past, present and future intermingling in his mind. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift into the depths of the unconscious...
***
The violin was crafted from mahogany oak; its mellow and sonorous tune filled the sanctuary of David’s room with bliss. Lush plants were aligned at the windowsills and sunflowers bowed to the sun as it conducted its daily revolution about the Earth, illuminating David’s haven. The occasional moments of silence where punctuated by a harmony of notes, flowing off the bow with ease.
“David!” shouted his father...“Come check these out”.
“Pretty, ay?” he insisted. “They could sell for a few bucks”.
David hesitated to protest. “Perhaps after...Dad?” he replied “I’ve got to perfect my rehearsal for fete”.
“Come and I’ll show you how to feed them!” he fired back, almost oblivious to his son’s response.
“I’ll show you the tricks of my trade”
An uncanny silence consumed the room as the violin found its way back into its case. Unbeknownst to David, this would be his very last rehearsal...
The coming of age brought with it the knowledge of the family enterprise. Like a one-way street, David’s musical prowess seemed like a roadblock to his father’s entrepreneurial vision.
He felt caged. He wanted to escape but ever so slowly his passion eroded, wilted and withered, succumbing to the persuasion of his father the salesman.
*** Just stopping here to say I've not found a fault or a single jar yet, it's a pleasure to read this.
In his imagination, standing in his room again, he peered outside the window toward the edge of a foreign land. The turquoise water reflecting the patterns and stories of the clouds - shades of blue met with uncountable tones of green from the trees. The sand was soft between his toes as he steadily breathed in the salty air of the sea that was carried by the light breeze.
As he enjoyed this moment of solace, a mighty crash of the ocean shattered the stillness of his thoughts and then slowed down to greet him at the shore. He collected shells and held them against his ears – each shell harboured a different type of beach, and a different world of emotions. He closed his eyes and felt the adrenaline from the wind again as it surpassed the boundaries of his imagination.
He wondered how he let himself lose sight of the world by neglecting the most important feature of his happiness – the sounds of nature herself.  Beautiful.
***
The merciless shower of solar rays warmed his already half-baked face. Staring blankly out through the aperture of the cage seemed like an overwhelming task. Pausing one last time to catch his breath, an invisible force compelled him to look toward the other direction.
They had left. What remained were the half-eaten remnants of seed and grain. There were no chirps, no colourful hues and no looking back. The primrose path to their escape was laced with the fresh odour of droppings, having relieved themselves of their burdens.
The ambient sense of fear seemed to evaporate as he ran toward the open cage door. Almost inviting him, it embraced his frustration.
David had always wondered why the birds stayed in the same place when in fact they could fly anywhere.
Then he asked himself the same question…   

I'm really surprised that you're feeling dubious about your piece. I think this is wonderfully written. I was actively looking for stand-out grammatical or syntax errors but couldn't find anything that struck me as worthy of making you feel dubious! My favourite line of the piece is the last two sentences. I'm sure you can guess that I think this is great - the symbol is strong. I think a way of improving your piece, is by using the birds as a motif. The ending piece is so solemn it can stand on its own, but it could be worth some bonus points if the birds feature earlier in the piece, especially if they are noted for being clustered, or predictable in their location. This could really strengthen the ending couplet, despite how strong I think it is already. There's nothing in your piece I want to take away. I want everything to remain, because everything is great. I think it's just about enhancing the piece now, even in tiny ways. So embedding the birds earlier so they become a motif is one suggestion. I'd also like to see a tiny bit more reference to sound earlier in the piece - perhaps even just that the air was void of anything aurally inspiring? This will create a contrast to the violin, and then the sounds of nature, that are discussed later. This will mirror the discovery as it becomes revealed. What do you think?

This is not a piece you need to panic about, I think it's gentle but powerful. I think the imagery is clear, I always knew the kind of visual you wanted to present me with. From here I can only suggest extending your piece in small ways, by focusing on the metaphors, the symbols, and how the language mirrors the discovery

[shamus.clarke]

Hi Elyse,

thank you so much for your comments, it's a real relief to know that you like it. I will definitely make those changes ASAP.

[eliza.sargeant]

Thankyou so much TheFreeMarketeer!!
i will take on board your feedback much appreciated!!

[elysepopplewell]

Hey Elyse, if you could look over my creative that would be great! Used it for Belonging last year and got 15/15 and then this year for Discovery and got 11/15. The teacher marked everyone harshly, the whole english department basically hated him but anyway his only feedback and therefore it seemed only reason for taking 4 marks off was that it was "melodramatic." I would have disputed it but luckily since everyone else got marked badly I kept my 1 ranking. But, still if you could look and give your thoughts that would be great

Hey there! I'll have a look at this for you

Spoiler

The streets surrounding Darlinghurst Road, Kings Cross, comma were encapsulated by the scent of thyme-filled turkey sizzling on aluminium foil and dazzling hues of green and red. Moderately sheltered, a mother laid motionless, in a silent embrace with her only daughter, Grace. A windswept sleeping bag, their only security from the sodden concrete beneath. This sentence isn't formed properly - you can put a "was" in place of the comma for it to make sense, but otherwise it's two dependent clauses pushed together so it doesn't make perfect grammatical sense, although I understand your intentions with the sentence In spite of the fear and squalor of her new life, Grace’s innocent exuberance shone brighter than any of the surrounding estates, splendidly adorned with ornamental lights. Samantha, however, was the image of a mother weathered by shame. Skin hidden behind layers of grime, and hair hung as a tangled mop over sunken eyes. Faded polaroid photos clutched between calloused fingers, her only remaining memory of Grace’s lost childhood, and of her father that Grace barely knew. Yet, Samantha had made a promise to her daughter – a promise to deliver her Christmas wish.  I like the imagery here so far - it's positive yet sad. It's vibrant, but with a tone of sadness.
Samantha attempted not to dwell upon the past memories of a fulfilled Christmas. The precious nostalgias which to her, only seemed fair that all children would be able to experience. And now, Grace’s father was gone. Samantha used to love him. Maybe, "Samantha loved him" without the "used to" to create the sense that she loved him when he was alive, but also now. She used to cherished his company and speak of his name in softness. Yet, most nights she would fall asleep, clothed, on an unopened bed. Beaten and broken, she left.  Grace still remained too young, too naïve to understand the piercing terror in her mother’s eyes. Her father still loved her, but, he had to let her go.
“Where’s daddy?” she would inquisitively probe, with an infectious glow.
Samantha hesitated.
He was once treasured. Now a memory. A shadow lingering in the depths of Samantha’s mind. It was not as if she could simply say that he was an alcoholic. His life was one of more significance than the fateful addiction that it was suffocated by. Her mother did used to love him. She did used to cherish his company and speak of his name in softness. For the first time in her short life, Grace would celebrate Christmas away from the now distant comfort of being home. For the first time, she would wake up on Christmas Day and her father - would not be there.
“Mummy, my toes hurt” a stricken Grace would complain.
Seeing your own daughter in pain, the kind of pain no six-year-old should have to endure at such a young age eroded at Samantha’s raw heart. I think there should be another part to this sentence, it's like you went to create a comma splice but didn't put anything after the "raw heart." At the moment, "seeing your own daughter in pain" doesn't make sense on its own, and then pairing it with the type of pain doesn't make sense either. "Seeing your own daughter in pain is excruciating, for example. Also think carefully about using the "your" because this is the first time you've addressed the reader, and if you don't do it again, then it shows an inconsistency. Perhaps, "Samantha's heavy breath carried the weight of seeing her six year old daughter in pain no child should endure." Grace and Samantha shared their vulnerabilities, interlocking their hearts as much as their fingers.
“I know…” she would quite simply respond.
“It will be better soon.”
Yet as Samantha gazed into Grace’s pale blue eyes, she sensed a more profound desire. For this, she could not simply say those same five words she usually would. Grace needed more.   

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Samantha peered out to Keltie Bay, flickering with scattered lights as faint laughter echoed in the distance. Where she had come from - the place that Grace called ‘home’ was consumed by an unnerving silence. Cold sweat glistened down Samantha’s furrowed brow. With hands clasped tightly, only alert to the sound of her throbbing heart - she was waiting. She shadowed her target. One of Potts Point’s finest Victorian Italianate estates, a harmony of classical grandeur and contemporary finesse, nestled in the quiet, tree-lined Rockwall Crescent. Standing in the centre of the ornate porcelain courtyard – a freshly potted magnolia little gem. From her sleeping bag emerged a rusted axe. She knew what she had to do.
………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Samantha lumbered up the footpath. The sleeping bag was no longer empty. Under the procession of yellow street lights her blood stained hands appeared almost a sickly blackish-gold. The sirens of police cars wailed in the distance. Yet, they were not for her. Still beaten, still broken, she fell. Without him, her strength had faded, slowly swept away by the wind. Grace was all she had.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Grace woke to an unfamiliar welcome. Blinking, blurriness faded to a distorted mirage of green. It wasn’t perfect, edges frayed, insignificantly sized in stature. To Grace, none of this mattered. To put it simply, it fulfilled a Christmas wish. Grace stood in awe, she could not divert her eyes from the tree. A magnolia little gem, fashioned with hanging photographs. In the corner, stood her mother. A blood-soaked tourniquet slapped to her wrist, her worn hands no longer a constant reminder of what she once perceived as weakness. She had conquered her fears.
“I love you, mum!” Grace chirped.
“Your father…” she paused –
“He loves you too.”
The two stood together, mesmerised, not by the tree but by memories of Grace’s father. As they would most nights, they took refuge in their still windswept sleeping bag, pale polaroid photographs now grasped between Grace’s hardened hands, the only remaining memory of her childhood, of her father that she misses so dearly. So, every Christmas, Grace would decorate her little gem of hope. A sign that her father had also found his way home.   

The bulk of my comments are about the end part there. The reason being, I want to know more about her cutting the tree. It seemed menacing at first, she pulled out the axe, her hands were covered in blood... but then suddenly there's a tree fully erected and Christmassy. So, I'm thinking you have two options here: you could continue to play off the sinister thing, making us think "oh god did she cut someone's head offf???" Or, we can do it the way I personally would prefer to write it, which is to describe her hacking at it with a blunt axe, and quietly dragging it down the street, leaving branches to the side of the street. Then we can flash forward a few hours to the daughter waking up, and go from there. I'd also like an imagine of how the tree stood - leaning against the underside of a bridge? against an alley? and so on. Show the reader the imperfections of the situation, despite Grace seeing it as so perfect.

I also think there could be further development in the way the dad's alcoholism relates to the Christmas tree in the end. I think if you didn't have the alcoholism there, I'd be asking you to put something there to make it more interesting - so don't take it out. But I think it needs to be developed more. These beautiful houses are described, and then we have a sleeping bag with some kind of tree erected in front of it. Perhaps the link we need is a description of the tree being the dad's thing, that they used to have an artificial tree but it would be decorated with daddy and daughter each year. Something like this adds a connection between the significance of the absence of dad with the significance of the tree and the way the mother has bridged the gap.

As for the discovery, I think that this isn't as strong as other stories I've read in terms of discovery. It's not to say discovery doesn't exist, but I'm worried about the way you'll be able to relate it to the rubric in questions later. Spiritual discovery is the one that comes to mind most, but I don't really recognise another really prominent discovery. I'm happy to be proven wrong of course, seeing as I was focused on improving the structure towards the end I wasn't actively seeking discovery.

So in conclusion, there are a few grammatical things to fix up - usually about creating complete sentences. I'd love something more from the ending area of the story, and a greater connection between the dad, alcoholism, and the Christmas tree. At the moment, the dad's absence and alcoholism seems like a bit of context that doesn't really directly contribute to the storyline. Hopefully you can take some of this on board, and hopefully you won't think I'm being too harsh! Let me know if I can help more